It's a Dog's Life
by InzanityFirez
Summary: A witch with a grudge against John alters time itself to get her revenge, and Dean's caught in the cross-fire.  The newly four-legged Deans of the past and present are running out of time, and witches aren't the only threats.  Teen/Present!Winchesters.
1. The Boy Who Cried Wolf

**I really shouldn't be starting more multi-chapters, but I couldn't resist. I wants me a fluffy Dean. I debated on Present!Winchesters and Teenchesters! And decided to do both. Which means there will be some very intense time-paradox action. XD It was either do both in one fic, or make a fic for each set of Winchesters, and that might have seemed redundant so...let's see if I can make this work, mmm? I would have tried to one-shots, but I'm crap at writing short stories. XD Enjoy!**

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_ November, 1997_

"Sam, you get your ass back inside, _now_."

"Dean, you can't even shoot a gun with your arm like that! Dad needs help now, let me come!"

"Inside, Sam!" Dean snarled as he tried to shove his brother back into the motel with one hand. His other was in a cast and bound tightly against his chest, courtesy of the ghost who'd pushed him over a set of stairs just a mere week prior.

"A witch, Dean! You can't take her on like that." Sam insisted, and he stood his ground as he pushed his brother's hand away to glare evenly at him.

The kid was fourteen now and apparently eating veggies was the path to genetic success because he'd gone from runt to budding giant practically overnight. It annoyed Dean that Sam had gone from barely reaching his chest to being about eye level with his neck, with the promise of more to come.

"It ain't a debate, Sam. We're wasting time."

"I can _help_." Sam insisted.

"Yeah, like you did with the last ghost?" Dean retorted and Sam visibly winced. Dean's little trip over the stairs was courtesy of him shoving Sam out of the way when he'd failed to flee and Dean had come to his rescue. Dean had been hurt trying to protect Sam, and he knew that he'd made the same decision-no matter how many times it came up. And right now, with Dad hurt, he couldn't risk it. "Sam, I don't have time. Sorry about this." Sam's confused expression faded the moment that Dean's fist connected with his face and the boy slumped unconscious. Dean managed to catch him with one arm and heft him half onto the nearest bed where he cast a last look at his brother before he headed out.

His Dad needed him, and Sam needed to stay safe.

Two birds with one stone and all that crap.

...

_Present Day_

_"I think you should just go on without me...Go." _

_"All right. Sorry, Sam."_

The events of a few hours prior played in his mind over and over again as he took a hard drag from the a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Sam was gone, yet again, and Dean had only himself to blame. But if he really cared to think about it, inversely, it was also Sam's fault. Everytime that Sam had left-it had been his choice. Sam ran away for two weeks to be on his own, he left for Stanford to get away, he left with Ruby while tripping on demon blood, he left Dean to be on his own, twice, just because. And when the Hell had Dean ever left him? When he'd gone to _Hell_ to save Sam's life? When he'd gone on and tried to do the apple-pie thing for Sammy? Dean had _always_ taken Sam back, been there for him, and somehow Sam was always able to leave without a backwards glance and it just wasn't freaking fair.

But Dean didn't want to think; he didn't want to feel. All he wanted was to sucumb to oblivion in that damned bottle of whiskey and pretend that his best friend slash pain-in-the-ass-angel-brother wasn't dead, and the world wasn't up shit creek without a paddle, and that his little brother hadn't left his sorry ass. Again. He wanted to forget that he'd spilled so much blood he could drown in it, that he could be so cold, that the tendrils of the bastard he'd been in Hell didn't still grip him tight and give him nightmares, and influence his reality.

He wanted to forget.

But nothing could ever take away his memories, so in the end, and no alcohol could take his pain away so in the end...he drank because the bitter sting of it tasted better than the acid sorrow on his tongue.

Because his brother had left him alone again, and Dean, as always, found a reason to blame himself.

...

_"Alright, alright. You know, I guess that's why Dean never told you that he killed Amy."_

_"Listen, Sam..." _

_"All right. Sorry, Sam." _

Dean had lied to him. And it wasn't like it was the first time or anything, but...he had _lied_ to him. It was more than just saying that he didn't know how the nair had gotten into the shampoo, or saying he was fine even though Sam could tell his brother was on pins and needles and drinking booze like it was water. Dean hadn't just lied about killing Amy, he'd agreed to trust Sam and then gone behind his back to break it and so in effect, he had betrayed that trust. He had taken Sam's feeling that he had done something right, that he had some small measure of control in his crazy, messed up life, he had taken that sliver of hope that Dean maybe trusted him again, saw him as a partner again, and crushed them. And that was what hurt the most. More than killing Amy, because Sam could-if he felt like being honest about it [and he didn't] admit that Dean wasn't wholly wrong. And more than going behind his back, which was definitely wrong-but not something that Sam hadn't done to try and save her in the first place anyway.

No, what it came down to was his brother looking him in the damned eyes and telling him 'okay' like he believed Sam, and trusted him, and was willing to make this concession for him. To give him that much, after everything. Only to throw it all away and not even bother to tell him, to just drown himself in his whiskey and dodge Sam's every ironic attempt to comfort him and ease him of his apparently well-deserved guilt.

Dean, his big brother, the person he counted on more than any other, the person who meant more to him than existence, had thrown his trust and acceptance back into Sam's face, and that hurt more than anything.

That Sam had done very much the same thing time and again didn't occur to him. He'd done what he had to, right and wrong, and he'd spent a century in Hell paying his dues. Sam had wanted to start over, a clean slate, and Dean had smashed it all to bits.

The sound of his cell phone ringing jarred him from his thoughts and he stared down at the name illuminated by the screen's backlight. Dean was calling? He was actually surprised. It had only been a few hours and considering everything, well, he'd expected Dean to be three-sheets to the wind-or at least-attempting to get there.

But it didn't matter, he wasn't ready to face Dean yet. He wasn't ready to look his brother in the eyes knowing that Dean had done so while betraying him so easily. So he ignored it and let the matter rest, because he knew that Dean wouldn't call back. Dean calling was a feat in itself, calling back after having his call dismissed? Nope, at best, he'd leave a message.

Except that instead of a voicemail beep, his phone began ringing again, 'Dean' illuminated once more. Sam frowned down at the screen as an uneasy feeling slithered into his stomach and once more, he allowed the call to go unanswered and he stared down at his screen and waited. And it rang again.

Sam didn't hesitate to jerk the phone up to his ear and answer, because after twenty-eight years, he knew his brother well enough to know that the sickening feeling in his gut meant something was wrong.

"Dean?"

A pause. And then- _"Sammy." _ Dean wheezed into the phone, like the wind had been knocked out of him before he uttered a loud groan. _"S'm...somethin's...it's...agh..."_ Dean's voice faded a moment to be replaced by something like a whimper, pain forcing itself past his throat.

"Dean! Dean? What's wrong? Where are you?"

_"Motel...m'st be...hex.." _

"Hex? A hex bag? Shit! Dean, I'll...I'll be right there." Thankfully, small mercies considered, Sam hadn't left town. He didn't have a car, but the motel wasn't too far. Sam could run.

Another groan and then there was the sound of shattered glass and an inhuman sort of wail from Dean, it was forced, like it had been wrenched from the pit of his gut. Dean was more than in pain, he sounded like he was dying.

Sam's panic zero-to-sixtied instantly, and he didn't bother to grab his bags as he took off running, rubber meeting pavement as he forced his legs to pump faster and harder with each step. "Dean...Dean, man, talk to me! Hey! Damnit, Dean, say something! Stay with me, man, I'm on my way...Dean...Dean!" Sam's voice was almost desperate, all thoughts of betrayal forgotten for the moment as pure brotherly instinct took over.

_"Comin'...S'mmy?" _ Dean's words were, as they had been since Sam answered, slurred and they seemed more so, less coherent. Sam recognized it for what it was, he was losing Dean.

"Dean! Oh, God, Dean, come on, stay with me. What's happening?" he asked urgently.

_"Hurts."_ Dean moaned from the other end of the phone, and Sam was surprised that the cell phone hadn't cracked from the force of Sam's grip on it, his knuckles had gone white and he probably looked pale. He was scared, and that was something he didn't have to admit. The sudden looming possibility of losing Dean overruled every aspect of his senses, and the little brother in him, buried beneath all of that bitterness and so on, was aching.

"I'm almost there, Dean, I swear, stay with me, man. Come on, take it easy, I'm almost there." But he wasn't, it would be another fifteen minutes easy and by then... "Just hold on, Dean, okay? ..Okay? Dean...? Dean!"

Another groan, a mumbled, slurred version of Sam's endearment name, and the line dropped cold.

Sam felt his heart drop into his stomach as he frantically called Dean back. Again, and again.

But Dean didn't answer, and Sam knew why the sickening feeling in his stomach had grown.

He wasn't going to make it in time.

...

_November, 1997_

When Sam came to, day had turned to night outside if only just barely, and his brother and father hadn't returned. He had no idea where they were to go after them, so all he could do was wait and hope to God that nothing happened. But the anxiety gnawed at him alongside the indignation at his brother's treatment of him. He wasn't a kid! Sam could have helped and Dean had gone and knocked him out, and now who knew where his father and brother were?

Sam wasn't allowed to have a normal life? Fine. But he had to be a part of all of this hunter's crap, shouldn't he at least be allowed to be a _part of it_? Instead, Sam trained relentlessly only to be relegated to research, and wait-left behind-as his father and brother hunted without him.

The whole situation just sucked.

So Sam did the only thing he could think to do, and prepared their sparse medical supplies into some kind of order to be ready for their arrival. From what he'd gathered from Dean, John had been stabbed-but not too badly [as if being stabbed wasn't bad enough on it's own]. Dean's arm wasn't broken, but close enough, and still Sam had no doubt that he'd push and try and make use of it anyway, which would make it worse. There was only one witch they were hunting, and suddenly there were two. That was as much information as he'd gleaned, and then Dean had run off.

Freaking. Sucked.

Almost two more hours went by until he heard a familiar rumble outside that caused his anxious heart to swell a bit. Dad was back, Dean was back, they were okay. Because if Dad was back, then of course Dean was okay-he'd never let anything truly bad happen to them as long as he was around. [Excluding making them a part of the Winchester-hunter lifestyle in the first place...and so on.]

The door opened and Sam was there in an instant as John Winchester stumbled in, a wreck and a mess, covered in blood, clothes torn, and bruised all over. "Dad!" Sam slipped an arm around John's waist as he stumbled on his feet and he cast a glance behind John. "Dean, help m-" But Dean wasn't there and he heard John make a choked sort of noise in response to his words as the man collapsed somewhat onto the bed, and his vaguely quivering torso suggested that it was taking him most of his strength just to keep sitting up. He clutched something to his chest, something that made Sam's stomach clench and his eyes widen in horror.

Dean's jacket. Dad's jacket. The prized leather jacket bequeathed to Dean by John, now scrunched up in John's arms. "Dad...Dad, no...where's Dean? Where is he?" Sam demanded as his voice raised on octave, tinged with desperation because John looks more than hurt, he looks grim, and he's clutching Dean's jacket and Dean's not there and that can only mean...

Wordlessly, John slumped forward a bit and shoved the jacket towards Sam who didn't move to take it. John's eyes were partially glazed over and seemed fevered as he narrowed his eyes on Sam before he squinted like he couldn't quite see him. "Take him." he growled.

Sam didn't want to take the jacket, he didn't want to accept what his father seemed to be saying...and how could John not be freaking out? How could this happen? How could John have failed to protect Dean? There was no way, just no way, that his big brother, his obnoxious, jerky, _awesome_ big brother was gone...there was no way...

"Take him, Sam!" John snarled, and it seemed more because of the effort it took to speak than any real vehemence.

Sam jumped and took the bundle as John's expression twisted up in pain and then he slumped onto the bed, unconscious. "Dad!"

Sam started to move when he noticed the weight in his arms and his brow furrowed as he gazed down at the jacket and tentatively pulled the edge of the jacket back a bit...to reveal a blood-covered, dark brown...puppy?

One that wasn't breathing.

John had given him a dead puppy, in Dean's jacket, and he'd...

Sam felt the nausea rise in his throat as all but dropped the jacket and the dog onto the ground with a choked, half-sob. If Dean wasn't there, it wasn't because he waiting, it was because something had gone wrong. And his father had hung on long enough to pass Sam a dog, a _dead damned dog_, in _his brother's jacket_. What _the Hell. _ If he was that out of sorts, then something really had to have happened because this was too much. "Dean." The voice felt ripped from his throat, a strangled, part-sob as well as tears welled up in his eyes. Sam had no idea what was going on, and his father wasn't awake to reassure him, or to explain, and Dean wasn't here to comfort him or stand in front of him. All he knew was that Dean wasn't here, and if he wasn't here, then logically it followed that there was only one reason why...

And that reason brought Sam to his knees as he cried.

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**I feel evil. Dun dun dun. You know, there are people in this world evil enough to end this story right here with a Dead Dean and a Dying Dean and a pair of Angsty Sams...But I'm not one of them. XD This story shall continue, and have a happy ending, all in good time. XD Please leave me verbal hugs and such, because they inspire me to keep up writing and I loves them dearly. XD Let the furriness commence! Lurve, Witchy~**


	2. Misery Loves Company

**Thanks for the reviews, faves, and alerts already! XD Mmm. So..don't make Dean a fluffy puppy...which is exactly what I was gonna do...I agree he deserves macho, Dean's badass, but I like fluff...still, out of gratitude for your existence...I'll compromise. I was considering Dean's mind slowly succumbing to the dog's anyway, so he'll be slowly-but faster than is normal-aging, so he'll be a big, macho dog too. Or did you mean breed? Because I'm not making him some little lapdog [those annoy me _], he's just a puppy right now. XD And, because I loves him so, originally I was gonna just have this be a little case-fic type of deal, nothing too major happening...but I loves Cas so dearly that I feel I ought to bring him in. And I'm thinking it'll be him in Jimmy's vessel-as a kid-with muted angelic powers and his mind intact, [not only cause I love him-but because it'll give me someone knowing and effective to help deal with the time-travel issues] Buuut. I think I'll take reader's choice on whether or not he is fully Cas, or the vessel's childish nature affects him. So...Cas' mind with kid emotions type of deal? We'll see, I suppose. If everyone violently opposes a wee Cas, I don't want to piss off all my readers so.. Hopefully no one violently hates me for bringing little Cas in, but it kinda makes sense to me anyway so...yeah. And this author's note is really long. I'm sorry. XD**

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_Present Day_

Dean was hurting.

Scratch that.

Dean was _aching_.

One minute he'd been nursing his half-drunk bottle of whiskey, and the next thing he knew, he was in agony. His bones ground together beneath his skin, his blood seemed to boil inside his veins, he felt as though he were on fire and he inhaled sharply to try to catch his breath from the sudden force of it all. Dean stumbled and tried to right himself as he clutched onto the desk beside him. Something was wrong, way damned wrong, and as he coughed suddenly, a splatter of blood found it's way onto the desk. His stomach was churning and his body ached.

Survival instincts kicked in. He had to do something before...before whatever this was finished, or knocked him out, or whatever the Hell was going on. Dean's trembling hand found purchase with his phone as he clicked up Sam's number. It rang, and rang...and rang. "D'mm't..." Dean mumbled through a wince. "Answer, Sammy...c'mon..." he gritted out as he dialed again to no avail. His vision was darkening, the pain pitched even though he was damned sure it shouldn't be possible to hurt this bad, or at least be conscious through it.

_"Dean?" _

A wave of pain assaulted him, made him nauseas and took the wind out of him as he struggled to remain standing, his weight heavily leaned on the desk before him. "Sammy." he wheezed. As his stomach twisted, he groaned. "S'm...somethin's...it's...agh.." Dean's words ended on a pained sort of grunt before he was ashamed to hear a whimper wrested from his lips. Black spots danced in his darkening vision and the coppery taste of his own blood was warm in his mouth. He was screwed, so totally screwed.

_"Dean? Dean! What's wrong? Where are you?" _

"Motel...m'st be...hex.." At least Sam sounded worried...or was that a good thing? He didn't like Sam to worry, didn't like the kid upset. Never had. So why had he called again? Oh, because Sam would save him, he'd help him...and he had to stay alive because...because Sam needed him...someone needed him...needed him for...what? Dean found his thoughts were all jumbled and didn't even really make sense to him, random fragments of thoughts, feelings, and memories all blurred in his mind.

_"Hex? A hex bag? Shit! Dean, I'll...I'll be right there."_

Dean managed a weak smile. Stupid Sammy, thinking he'd be right over, kid was probably half-way to the next county by now. Dean wasn't the only liar in the family. He groaned as a spasm of pain hit him and he jerked, sending the porcelain table lamp shattering to the floor as he fell with a loud _thump_. Dean thought he might be alright to get back up, until a sensation of having shards of razor-sharp ice stabbed into his veins, coupled with a sickening _crack_ of his spine as he felt a terrible jerk inside of his body, forced an inhuman, agonizing wail past his lips.

_"Dean...Dean, man, talk to me! Hey! Damnit, Dean, say something! Stay with me, man, I'm on my way...Dean...Dean!"_

Dean was aware of the noise buzzing from the phone, Sam was talking, but he couldn't really hear it until the last bit, when he weakly dragged the phone up to his ear. "Comin', S'mmy?" Dean couldn't mask the pain, the tiredness in his voice, or the very mild bit of hopefulness that bled through. Dean wanted to see Sammy again, _his _Sammy...where had he gone again? Somewhere far. Dean had gone somewhere far too. And that was pain. John was far away too, his father, but he needed him...someone...who needed him? Dean's thoughts were more incoherent than his words at that point as the random fragments just coursed through his mind.

_"Dean! Oh, God, Dean, come on, stay with me. What's happening?"_

The voice on the other end was demanding now, a bit higher pitched. Sammy was worried, Sammy was coming...but he couldn't speak, it hurt too much...he was tired, why didn't Sammy just let him rest? But he had to answer, because it was Sammy, and Dean would do anything for his little brother. "Hurts." in a moan was the best that Dean could manage through his haze of pain and senselessness.

_"I'm almost there, Dean, I swear, stay with me, man. Come on, take it easy, I'm almost there...Just hold on, Dean, okay? ..Okay? Dean...? Dean!"_

Dean wanted to answer his Sammy, or this Sammy, or whoever Sam felt like being today. Because any Sam was better than no Sam. But the black spots in his vision had filled them fully and the pain had sky-rocketed to an agonizing crescendo, so he settled for the best he could muster, a half-sighed, half-mumbled, mostly moaned, "Sammy..." as his finger twitched and clicked off, and all sense of existence left him.

...

_November, 1997_

Sam was sobbing. Heart-wrenching, chest-heaving, breath-stealing _sobs_ because he was certain that his big brother was dead. John's behavior, while not what he'd call proper for a should-be grieving father, had definitely indicated that something was wrong. But if Dean had just needed help, been somewhere, John wouldn't have just handed him Dean's jacket and passed out. No, in fact, if Dean had needed help-John would have fought tooth and nail despite his wounds and brought his son home. The fact that Dean's body wasn't even here made Sam certain that not only was Dean...dead, but he had been more than injured, because John wouldn't have just left the body...Unless...

_No...no way, he wouldn't..._

If he'd...salted and burned Dean's body...then...no, he wouldn't do that without Sam...he wouldn't... "He wouldn't let Dean die!" Sam cried suddenly, his utter conviction thrown off by the sheer reality of the situation. Dean was lying somewhere in need of help, otherwise, John would have been helping-or if it had really been so bad, he'd have spent his last breaths doing something other than telling Sam to 'take him'. Sam assumed he'd meant the jacket as a reference to Dean, like it was all that they had left and that...

Sam didn't realize it was possible to feel this bad. Like the wind had been knocked out of him, and his stomach was all twisted. His chest was tight and it felt like agony through his core. The emptiness, the intense sorrow, the horrible feeling of loss and the bitterness of how unfair it all was. Dean was eighteen, _eighteen_, he was practically still a kid, in a way...or not. Because as Winchesters, they'd never really gotten to be kids, and now Dean would never really get to be a man. His big brother, his best friend, the one who took care of him when he was sick and let Sam slip into his bed when he had nightmares. The one who laughed and cried with him, and patted his back when he did good on a test, and defended

That was Dean, his big brother. And now he was gone and it felt like the whole world had ended for him and it didn't even matter. The clock on the wall was still ticking, he was still breathing, John was three feet away but it didn't matter. Because Dean wasn't there, and without Dean, it was all wrong.

Everything was wrong.

"Dean..." Sam moaned the name as he cried openly, knelt down on the floor in all of his misery.

A low, whining noise to his right caught his attention and he jumped in wide, teary-eyed surprise as the bundled-up jacket a foot away, Dean's jacket, began to move a little. The dog, the _dead_ dog. Apparently not dead, even though he hadn't seen it's chest rise and fall with breath, and it had been so limp and bloody...it was alive?

_"Take him."_

John had actually wanted Sam to take the dog? Was that the sign of John's grief then, some kind of freak-madness?

Sam had always wanted a dog. The two weeks he'd run and had one had been one of the best times of his life, but a hunter's life was exactly conducive to a pet. They'd argued about it only a few weeks back though, and the memory-still fresh in his mind-now seemed bitter.

_"But, Dad! It's not like I'm not around enough, I could come home from school and-" _

_"-No, Sam, and that's final." John growled as he slammed his gun into a duffel as he prepared to head off for a hunt. _

_Dean stood with his back leaned lightly against a table, and he watched the proceedings with a frown. Sam had found a bedraggled, rain-soaked puppy outside the motel and the kid was holding onto it like it was a friggen baby, cooing at it and hugging it and...well, the kid was a softie, he'd give him that._

_"But __**why**__? It's a puppy! I'll take care of him, I'll feed him and wash him, he won't be in your way-" _

_"-__**Enough**__." John snapped as he finally turned his stern gaze on Sam. "It can stay the night, till it stops raining, and then you put the damned dog outside and don't bring it up again, y'hear me?" _

_"But-" _

_"Sam! It's just a dumb dog! Lay off, man." Dean interjected. _

_Sam turned a furious glare onto his brother. "Shut it, Dean." he growled, heated at that point. Dean would do anything for Sam, he'd take a bullet for Sam, but one thing he wouldn't do? Take his side against Dad. Dean __**always**__ did whatever Dad said. He didn't get it. Dean was more of a stubborn jerk than anyone he knew [except maybe their Dad] but when it came to said Dad, Dean listened without hesitation. _

_Dean returned his glare with a belligerent look that flickered with anger as Sam took that tone with him. "Don't make me kick your ass, kid." he growled._

_"Try it!" Sam challenged as he straightened, and he saw Dean scowl faintly at the reminder that Sam was gaining on him in height, taller than Dean had been at that age even. _

_"Both of you-knock it the Hell off!" John's voice thundered, and both boys jumped slightly. That was John's shut-up-before-I-tan-your-hides voice. "The dog can stay tonight, Sam, and then it's gone. You understand?" Sam didn't reply and John's eyes narrowed. "Sam?" he barked. _

_Sam glared, shuffled his foot as he clutched the now-agitated puppy in his arms, and then muttered. "Yes, sir." _

_"Good. I'll be back soon. Dean, take care of your brother." _

_"Yes, sir." Dean said, like he always did, and Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes._

_"And make sure he puts that damned dog outside." he added as he zipped up the duffel and regarded both of his sons. "Be careful." he added gruffly, and he gave Dean's shoulder a squeeze before he turned to Sam, who took a step back as he regarded John with a sullen expression. John eyed his youngest son a moment before he pulled the brim of his hat down, and without another word, left._

_Silence fell between the Winchester brothers a moment before Sam turned his glare on Dean, still angry and needing to take it out on someone. Why not the brother who, yet again, had taken their father's side? "You're real cool, Dean. All ready to leave a puppy outside alone." _

_Dean gave his little brother a withering look. "Because it's gonna do any better comin' with us, huh? Y'really think you can take care of a dog?" _

_"I've done it before." Sam challenged, and Dean's expression darkened a bit at the reminder of Sam running off._

_"The dog's gone tomorrow, Sam? You got that?" he headed for the door. _

_Sam stiffened. "Where are you going?" he demanded._

_"Out." Dean said simply with a mock-salute before he left, and a furious Sam growled in frustration before he kicked the table, only to wince as it hurt. Stupid Dean. And stupid Dad. And stupid puppy that was licking him and nuzzling him to make him feel better, cause his little puppy senses were obviously telling him Sam was upset, and he just wanted to make it better. He had no idea come tomorrow, he'd be cold, wet, and hungry again. _

Sam had thought so anyway, until Dean had returned with a dog bone and an address for a family that wanted to adopt the dog. He had no idea how Dean pulled it off, but it had apparently involved being outside for a bit because Dean was soaked and cold, and all of Sam's anger had three-sixtied into guilt and gratitude.

_"Dean...you really..? Why?" Sam regarded his soaked, irritated-looking brother and was stunned. Dean had spent the past hours looking for someone to adopt the dog? How had even begun that task? _

_Dean shifted and looked uncomfortable before he muttered. "It was a big deal to you, so.." _

_And there it was. He'd done it for Sam. Like a lot of sometimes stupid, sometimes crazy, sometimes suicidal, sometimes wonderful things he did for Sam. _

_Sam opened his mouth to reply in kind but Dean wasn't looking for a 'chick-flick' moment it seemed because he grinned abruptly as he came over to ruffle the dog's fur, and it gave a grateful little noise and licked his hand. "'Sides, I like dogs too, bitch." Bitch had been the promotional endearment over 'brat' since about the year prior._

_Sam blinked and then smiled up at his big brother gratefully. Trust Dean to find a way to disobey John without actually disobeying. "Thanks...jerk." _

_Dean just grinned back at him, and the dog settled in happily between them. _

Sam was startled from his thoughts by another low whine, this time louder as a furry head poked it's way up from the jacket and Sam cautiously scooted closer. He could see the upper half of a puppy. Dark-brown fur, pointy ears, and what he could really only describe as a very disoriented look as the dog's head lifted and swayed a bit, it's body shaking slightly. The dog's eyes opened very slowly and it seemed to squint a bit, this time with a sort of muffled whimper. Sam, if he was guessing right, thought that maybe it looked like a little Husky puppy, sort of wolf-like, but he wasn't sure. It wasn't like he'd had a lot of experience, after all.

"At least it's not dead..." Sam muttered, before a spasm of pain reminded him that his brother was...was...

The dog's ears perked at the sound of Sam's voice and the head tilted slowly towards him as the squinty eyes opened fully and he was surprised to find them a piercing shade of green. A familiar green too, just like...Dean's eyes. And damned if they didn't look groggy and confused, but kind of...alert, too.

Wishful thinking, maybe, because as Dean might say, _might have said_, it was just a 'dumb dog'.

He couldn't deny that the dog seemed more alert though as those green eyes fixed right on Sam and seemed to widen suddenly. The dog made a long, slow little whining noise, and Sam wondered if it might be hurt. "You okay, little guy?" he asked softly, not really caring if he was honest, because at the moment-he didn't feel like he had much in him to care with, but he scooted closer anyway till he was just in front of the dog.

The dog jerked a bit as Sam moved closer, and he watched as the dog's body suddenly trembled and a shaky paw, followed by another, were shoved forward out of the confines of the bundled jacket. The dog squirmed loose in a quick, jerky motion and Sam could finally see the whole dog. A pup for sure, with pointy ears, the same dark-brown fur all over, a somewhat long tail, and those green eyes that were now frozen on Sam in what he would have called shock-if it weren't just a dog. And one more thing. The dog had a necklace on, an amulet actually, one he recognized from a Christmas years ago.

_"Dad lied to me...I want you to have it." _

_"You sure?" _

_"I'm sure." _

_"Thank you, Sam. I-I love it." _

And he had, much to Sam's delight and fondness, Dean never took it off. Anyone who might have called it 'girly' only got a sneer in reply, and Dean seemed to treasure it. That touched, Sam, really, and he'd come to expect Dean to wear it always. Which was why he was having a hard time coming to grips with what he was seeing. And his father's growled words, spoken not long ago at all, rang through his mind with a whole new meaning. Because the necklace, the amulet, around the dog's neck-the dog with those familiar, way-too-expressive-for-a-dog, green eyes that were fixed on Sam with that can't-be-shock...

The amulet was _Dean's_.

...

_ Present Day_

"Dean!" Sam's shout filled the quiet, dimly lit motel room.

He'd run, like the hounds of Hell were after him, he'd _run_ to get to Dean. So much so that even Sam on his new exercise-kick was sweating and out of breath and felt his lungs burning in his chest as his heart raced wildly. Fear, abject, pure, unadulterated _fear_ gripped him. Dean was in trouble, Dean was hurting, Dean was-from what he'd said and what he sounded like- _dying_, and Sam wasn't there to save him. Because he'd walked away, _again_, and no matter the reason...what the _Hell_ had he been thinking?

"Dean?" Sam's panicked tone became one slightly more confused as he flicked on a light and tried to get his bearings. He noted the slick, red blood that stained the table, he noted the shattered lamp, and then he noticed a pile of clothes and a discarded bottle of whiskey whose contents had partially leaked onto the floor. But it was the clothes that held his attention: Dean's clothes.

Sam headed for the bathroom, but he wasn't there and he made his way back to the pile of clothes with that climaxed fear reaching stunning, impossible new heights. Sam swallowed hard as he crouched down and grabbed Dean's jacket and shirt, and started to tug them away when a dark brown form rolled out and gave a low, rumbling growl. It appeared to have been sleeping-or something, and Sam watched in rising confusion as it gave a mumbled sort of growl and tilted bleary, green eyes up at him.

_"Sammy."_

Sam knew those eyes. He'd seen just about every emotion, expression, and nuance of those eyes possible to see, and he knew the haunted, old-beyond-his-years look they had if one bothered to look past Dean's facade. The look he was looking at right now, except that he couldn't be, because Dean-his big brother, was a man, and this was a _dog_.

A dog that had gained some clarity of mind, apparently, as it tried to struggle to it's feet and stared up at Sam as though dumbstruck. A tense moment passed as Sam's brown eyes stared down at those stunned green ones, and the dog made a strangled sort of whining noise. All before it tilted it's head and appeared to try look at itself...and promptly let out a long, wailing howl.

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**So. I'm really trying not to be redundant, but at the same time, I'm trying to keep up with time parallels and capture the essence of the Teenchesters vs Presentchesters. If that makes sense. Some things will be similar, other things will be very different, and obviously they'll be having different little mini-adventures. And Presentchesters will have Cas [in some form or another?] just saying. XD And Teenchesters will have John...and Bobby will be...around...and some other faces you'll recognize..and so on. XD So yes. **

**Do let's leave me verbal hugs and such, because they brighten my soul. XD And because I need to know what consesus is on Cas? I don't think I can compromise on not having him, because the idea of Cas and dog!Dean is just way too endearing to me. But I might be able to compromise on age, Cas vs Child!Cas personality, [his mind being intact is non-negotiable], maybe he'll be aging at a somewhat rapid rate...I dunno, because the idea of Dean getting turned normal and Cas still being a kid appeals to me greatly, but a Teen!Cas with Dog!Dean and Dean, and Adult!Cas doing the same appeals too...I dunno. And possibly, the situation might maybe slightly possibly inspire a sequel of some sort. But we'll see. Don't hate me? XD I kinda like the idea of Dean coming out the curse clean, but also I kinda like the idea of John taking the curse into himself intentionally to save Dean, because I think despite everything, John really does love his boys and that would lead to more adventure and some amazing Winchester fluff. Just saying. XD I dunno. **

**Kiss, you keep rocking my socks, I definitely adore you endlessly. Babyreaper, your review filled me both with utter, gut-wrenching joy and angst. [Do I get hugs now?] XD and Kate...I am very flattered, and totally think you rock. So you know. XD Thank you to my other readers who read, faved, and alerted. I adores you all too. **

**And again, I apologize for my long arse author notes. If you read them...you rock, if not...then you don't get to help decide the fate of this story, so...ha! Or something. ;-; XD My schedule is Sun-Every other Wed, 6:58am-6:58pm and Thurs-Every other Sat, 7am-4pm: working. And school soon, hopefully. And the occasional hours of sleep, otherwise, pretty much-I write, and daydream about writing, and then write some more. XD Lurve, Witchy~**


	3. Brothers are Forever

**I WOULD NEVER LEAVE DEAN A DOG FOREVER! Those fics kill me. Where Dean/Sam end up permanently de-aged or animalized or whatnot. It's heart-breaking and evil. And so not how things would/should ever be, gah...OR DEAN STUCK AS A GIRL! WHAT THE HELLLLL! -insert pain and agony here- ;-; Now that I got that off my chest...XD BABYREAPER=FTW. Just saying. XD And thanks for the faves and alerts, m'dears! They brighten my soulll! XD Now onto doggishness! And brotherly goodness! And such! XD ~ : D**

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_November, 1997_

Sam was having his turn at being frozen in shock, because he couldn't quite grasp the reality of what he was seeing. The dog, the supposedly dead dog was alive. Fine. He could handle that. The dog had green eyes that looked pretty weird for a dog, and a whole Hell of a lot like Dean's eyes. Okay. Weird, but okay. His father had told him to take the dog. Didn't make sense, but sure, okay.

But the amulet?

_That _threw him for a loop.

The dog was staring up at him with those wide, green eyes, and his small body trembling-most likely unintentionally. And then a little noise came from the dog, a short, gurgled, whimpering sort of noise that-if Sam had to guess-was a kind of questioning noise. Only one thing came to mind when he heard it, one familiar, repetitive memory.

_"Sammy?"_

But that was impossible, because it was just a dog...a dog in Dean's jacket, that John had-despite being wrecked up himself-had bothered to bring in, a dog that was wearing Dean's amulet, Dean who was gone...

Sam didn't realize he was going to speak until he heard his voice, uncertain and faintly choked. "...Dean?"

The dog's ears twitched and he gave a low whine, and Sam knew, he _knew_, but he refused to believe. Because this was too weird even for them, because the idea of his big brother being a dog was too much, especially after he'd just spent the past half hour or so mourning his brother bitterly.

The dog seemed to try to move closer, it moved a paw in Sam's direction, but it only managed to fall flat on it's face on shaky, trembling legs. The dog whimpered again, and it tilted it's head back only to jerk as it seemed to look at itself and let out a long, whining noise.

And then it seemed to panic.

Small paws scrabbled against the carpet as the dog began jerking and rolling about wildly, and Sam scooted back with wide eyes as the mess of fur continued to unsuccessully attempt to rise, all the while making frustrated, high-pitched noises.

If this were just a dog, it wouldn't make sense, unless maybe the dog was mad but it wasn't like it was foaming at the mouth or anything. But if this were Dean, then it _would_ make sense [at least-in that respect] because Dean would have to be freaked out beyond all reason if he just caught himself having been turned into a dog.

Sam hesitated and then said sharply, a slight stammer in his voice thanks to the panicked racing of his heart as the possibility of it being true sank in. "D-_Dean_."

The dog jerked and stopped suddenly, and slowly it squirmed a bit before green eyes slowly met brown ones and the dog gave a low whine. And then it started rallying off in a series of growls and whines, and Sam stammered. "S-Stop! Stop, alright? I can't understand you!"

The dog's mouth froze, hung open before it slowly closed and those pointed ears drooped. Even so, a low, rumbling whimper made it's way past the dogs throat, and Sam suspected that several of the noises the dog-Dean-had made were unintentional.

Sam eyed the dog for a moment, and for that moment, neither moved and merely stared. But finally, Sam hesitated and then muttered. "Okay...uh...God, this is crazy...okay, if you are Dean...bark twice."

The dog stared at Sam, and when he didn't move, Sam feared it really was crazy. But then the dog gave a resigned sort of sigh as it opened it's mouth and made a couple of gargled noises. Apparently barking wasn't so easy as whining or growling, and the green eyes that fixed on Sam seemed to him, frustrated.

"...A-Alright...um...well, can you nod? If you're Dean, then just...nod your head, alright?"

Dean eyed him again, and Sam couldn't help but note how purely Dean it seemed. A flicker of annoyance, that sort of _really, Sam?_ tilt to his head. But the dog struggled to sit up a bit and slowly gave a very deliberate nod.

"Shit." Sam whispered. He didn't curse often, but he felt that the occasion called for it.

At that, Dean's frustration seemed to return and he started whining and growling, and Sam gathered that he was trying to speak again.

"Dean, I..I don't understand...you're growling at me."

Dean's ears drooped a bit further and his canine brother stared at Sam before he looked over and saw John's legs hanging over the bed. The dog gave an instant whine and without thinking, apparently, tried to move closer. But Dean, obviously, wasn't used to walking as a dog, nor to his new form, and he just sort of rose and flopped onto his belly. A frustrated growl rumbled in Dean's throat, and he tilted his head away from Sam in what he gathered was embarrassment. Sam knew his big brother well, after all.

"Dad's okay." he said softly, like one might talk to a wounded animal. Dean's ears jerked, but he didn't turn his head. "He's...hurt, but he's okay, I took care of some his injuries while he was sleeping...he brought you in with him..." Sam paused and then asked. "Did the witch do this to you?"

A beat. And then Dean slowly tilted his head back and managed to lift enough to give a nod in the affirmative.

Sam took note of the blood on Dean's fur once again and asked. "Are you hurt?"

Dean seemed to consider it and then shook his head.

"...Is the witch dead?"

Dean hesitated and then gave a low whine. Sam wasn't sure of his meaning, and he didn't have a way to clarify so he passed it over for the moment. He would ask their Dad when he woke up. In the meantime...he had his newly furry big brother to deal with.

Sam had said he'd wanted a dog, but at the moment, he was kind of wishing there was no such thing.

Sam hesitated and then scooted closer. Dean eyed him somewhat warily, but he didn't move away. He lifted his head up to look at Sam and his face scrunched up in a kind of wince. "I must seem kinda big right now, huh?" Sam said lamely, and Dean didn't bother to dignify that with any kind of response.

Sam hesitated again before he brought his hand towards Dean, who instantly growled. Sam's hand stopped mid-reach and he paused before he went ahead anyway and brought his hand down on Dean's small head.

Dean gave another growl that became a light whine as Sam stroked the fur on his head gently. Sam did it partially out of curiosity-or was it fascination? But mostly because his brother had to be way more freaked out than he was letting on, and Sam wanted to comfort him somehow. It just figured. Dean had gone in to help John and he ended up walking away with _this_.

"Whatever this is, Dean...we'll find a way to fix it...I bet Dad'll know what to do." he offered, and Dean huffed a bit. Whether in doubt, or agreement, he wasn't quite sure and he didn't want to dwell on his own uncertainty on the subject. The conviction that they would-no matter what-fix Dean warred with the simple question of _how_. Sam brushed his fingers over one of Dean's ears, and Dean shivered slightly with a low whine and tilted his head away. _Ears are sensitive, duly noted. _ Sam made a mental note. He brought his hand back up, and Dean watched him in what could only be described as glumly, but allowed Sam to run his fingers over his head and back. Dean's fur was soft, except for where blood had dried, and he also noted that Dean was going to need to get cleaned up. But that was going to be a battle for later, for now...he'd just have to wait for their Dad to wake up and figure this all out.

He had to.

...

One minute, Dean was facing down a witch with John at his side-and the next...he was waking up with a killer headache, and a feeling of disorientation that beat out even the worst hangover he'd-as of yet-ever had. He noted that something was on him as he began to stir and he tried to shove it off before he was met with light, and everything kind of hit him at once. Everything just...smelled strong, really strong, like bad perfumes. And the clock ticking away on the wall seemed pretty loud in his ears. But moreover, he heard Sam's voice-kind of booming too-and he tilted his gaze over to his brother. When had Sam gotten there anyway?

Dean let his eyes open a bit more and it took him a second to realize two things. One...everything was black and white, and grey, and just..._wrong_. And Sam looked like a friggen _giant_. _What the Hell, Sam?_ he tried to speak, but his mouth felt heavy and wouldn't work right, and he was aware of an odd whining noise coming from...him? _Little guy..? Huh? _

But Sam was getting closer, bigger, and Dean's eyes widened as he squirmed his way out of the confines of whatever the Hell was holding him, and he found himself off-balance immediately. Dean just stared up at his little brother, stunned and confused. _Sammy?_

His little brother just kept staring at him, and then he spoke Dean's name and he tried to speak. _No shit, Sherlock...what's going on, man? _ But Sam didn't reply, or even seem to register his words, he just kept up that damned staring. He tried to move closer and failed utterly, and he finally realized that his entire body just felt...wrong. Dean craned his head to try and see what the problem was, when he took stock of the fact that his body was small, furry, and..._he had a tail_.

A _tail_.

Dean panicked and began trying to get to his feet, words pouring out of his mouth that didn't even really make sense to him as he tried to get up and managed to fail everytime. He had no idea what was going on, this had to be some kind of bad, witch-induced trip or, or _something_, _anything_ but for it to be real.

"D-_Dean_." Sam's voice jerked him to a halt, and he turned his head to his brother with wide-eyes.

_Sam! What the Hell is going on? This isn't happening, c'mon, man, tell me this a dream...what the __**Hell**__ is going on here? _

"S-Stop! Stop, alright! I can't understand you!"

Dean stopped instantly, and he stared up at Sam as the realization hit him. Sam couldn't understand a damned thing he was saying because...he was...a dog? He was a _dog_. Dean felt his body slump and he kind of whimpered. His body kept making those noises of it's own accord, like a stomach-growling except it was damned dog-noises and way uncool.

Yeah, because getting turned into a dog _was_.

Sam was back to staring at him, and then he asked for Dean to bark twice. He wanted to hit the kid, he really did, but Dean saw the logic in it as well. As it was, he wasn't really sure how Sam had recognized him to begin with. So Dean obliged and tried to bark, but he found that 'woof, woof' didn't come out quite the same in a dog's body and he made more of those stupid noises again. _Damnit_.

And then Sam wanted him to _nod_. Dean eyed his brother in annoyance. What was he? Some kind of show-dog? But he gave in and after a struggled to push himself upright a bit, he nodded his head. Every movement felt wrong, he felt squished in his current skin and trapped. All of his eighteen years of life as a human hunter and male, trapped and squished into the body of a puppy.

"Shit." Sam whispered.

_Tell me about it, kid._

Well, clearly Sam knew that it was him now, he had to have something. Some kind of answer for this. _ You gotta help me, Sam. It was that witch! She had a partner! Bitch double-teamed us and-_

"Dean, I..I don't understand...you're growling at me."

Dean could feel his ears droop, and he watched Sam morosely before he noted the torn jeans of his father to his right and instinct kicked in as he tried to move over to his father. But that was another failed attempt in action. _Damnit..._ He didn't bother to look at Sam, he felt wrong, and strange, and like an idiot.

"Dad's okay."

Sam was talking soft, and Dean didn't like it one bit. He didn't want to be talked to like some pet. He listened anyway though.

"He's...hurt, but he's okay, I took care of some his injuries while he was sleeping...he brought you in with him...Did the witch do this to you?"

Dean took in the question and nodded, before Sam asked if he was hurt and he thought about it before he shook his head. And then he wanted to know if the witch was dead. That was a big _no_, but it was more complicated than that, because there had been another witch out of friggen nowhere and that one was dead. He hoped. _Not exactly..._ Dean couldn't do much else besides watch as Sam moved closer, and he didn't like that hesitant look on Sam's face. He was gonna do something stupid, Dean could feel it. And moreover, Sam closed the distance and looked like even more of a giant, which didn't sit right with him one bit.

"I must seem kinda big right now, huh?"

Dean just stared at him.

But then Sam was trying to pet him and that was _not_ cool. _I'm not a dog, dude! Lay off, hey, I said-_ But it felt kind of good, and though he wouldn't admit it, his little brother's proximity was comforting. It was the only thing that made sense or felt right at the moment, his little brother being there with him, recognizing him, just...being his brother despite this whole messed up situation.

"Whatever this is, Dean...we'll find a way to fix it...I bet Dad'll know what to do."

_Hn._

Sam stroked his ears and Dean shivered as an electric little feeling ran down his spine. His ears were hyper-sensitive or something, and he didn't like that one little bit. Sam wasn't deterred though, and kept on petting him, which Dean allowed just because-ah-it comforted Sam.

Not because _he_ liked the feeling, and had the oddest urge to curl up against Sam and let him comfort him.

Not at all.

That being said, Dean did shift his head a little closer to Sam's leg, so that his nose was touching the other's pants lightly. He didn't look up at Sam, but he could practically feel the kid's sympathetic expression as he ruffled Dean's furry head lightly.

"We'll fix this, Dean." Sam whispered, and Dean had to wonder who he was trying to convince with that weak statement. Dean, or himself?

_Damn straight_. Dean said, or rather, growled softly anyway, because there was no way Dean Winchester was spending the rest of his life as a dog.

No. Freakin'. Way.

...

_Present Day_

Dean had no idea what was going on. He had no idea what the _Hell_ was going on. The last thing he remembered was cradling a bottle when he'd started feeling like Hell warmed over and then he'd woken up stuck in something and then..._this_. Nasty-ass headache aside, the sensation of all kinds of smells and weird sounds assaulting him, it was what he was seeing that had his skin crawling and his body tensed.

Dean was staring up at his little brother, and that wasn't the weirdest thing, because he was used to that by now. No, it had more to do with the fact that he was craning his neck to look up at the other...and everything else in the room, oh, that and that everything was in frigging black and white. _Sammy? _ Dean tried to speak, but his mouth felt funny and his tongue was kind of lagging. He felt his teeth gnash together in an unfamiliar way and he tried to look down at himself to get a better idea of what was going on. And then he felt horror rise up in his throat as furry, stumpy legs and a tail greeted him.

And it just kind of went all to Hell from there.

A wail pushed past his awkward mouth, unbidden by himself, as he began a sort of spasmodic bit of flailing and trying to right himself. But the best that he could do was to sort of roll around until he was shakily able to get himself up on all...four legs. Dean's body trembled as he stared wide-eyed down at the way-too-close ground and he heard the rustling of clothes as Sam, beside him, moved and pinned him to the ground by his neck.

Dean let out a snarl unintentionally, and squirmed as he tried to shove away.

...

Sam, similarly, was lacking in applicable knowledge in the 'what the Hell was going on' department. All he knew was that, one moment, he was staring down at a dog with Dean's eyes and the next minute, the dog was having some kind of spaz attack. The dog seemed to settle a bit when it got up on all fours, but by then, Sam's hunter instincts had kicked in and the natural conclusion that this dog was not only odd, but possibly some kind of threat.

Sam clamped a hand around the dog's scrawny neck and pinned him down. The dog didn't take kindly to that, and squirmed right up until Sam withdrew a knife from his back pocket and brought it into the dog's line of view. Sure enough, the dog's eyes seemed to widen and flicked to Sam as the dog stopped moving.

"I get the feeling you can understand what I'm saying, clearly you know what a knife is. So you'd better find a way to tell me what happened to my brother, fast." Sam tilted the threateningly.

_I am your brother, damnit! And what do you expect me to do? Sign-language? _

The dog began a frenzied bit of snarling and he tightened his grip on it's neck. The dog made a choked noise and then glared up at Sam in a way that was way too familiar for his liking.

Sam had given the idea that the dog was somehow Dean some thought, but there was no way. He'd never heard of that kind of transformation, not unless you counted really far-fetched things. Like Circe, the man-hating sorceress of Greek mythology or something similar. Then again, having nearly been torn to shred by a pack of deities, and worn to prom by Lucifer himself, he couldn't really rule anything out.

But there was just no way.

It didn't even make sense. Out of the blue, out of _nowhere_, Dean just gets transformed? They had finished their hunt, it was time to move on, there was no sign of witches or deities, or anything in-between.

And moreover, he didn't _want_ to believe it, because that was way too much more than he could deal with right now.

"Sucks to be you, doesn't it? You ran away with-pardon the pun-your tail between your legs and now your brother is gone. Or a dog, hard to say, isn't it? He's a lot like a dog, so there's not much difference. Unfailingly loyal. Stupid. Barks on command. Constantly in heat. Need I go on?"

Sam gritted his teeth and unintentionally tightened his grip on the dog's neck as Lucifer taunted him. "Shut up." he muttered, and the dog in his grasp tilted his head slightly as he watched Sam carefully.

"He really is like a dog. I mean, how many times have you kicked the bastard when he was down, only to have him take you back with his proverbial tail wagging?" Lucifer chuckled. "And he calls _you_ a bitch."

"Shut up!" Sam hissed, his stress entirely to piqued to be playing this game right now. Without preamble, he jerked his hand away from the dog to ram his thumbnail into the wound on his palm. A wound that was healing not nearly as well as it should have, thanks to his consistent prodding.

"Poor little Sam." Lucifer's lips were closer to his ear as he set a hand on Sam's shoulder and gave it a painful squeeze. He flickered in and out, but still hadn't disappeared completely. "How long do you think poking at your little cut is going to keep me out? Come on, kiddo. You know better than that. Especially without big brother being around to hold your bloody little hand." Lucifer taunted.

Sam closed his eyes tight, panic and desperation at war within him as he dug his finger in harder and willed Lucifer away. He didn't have time for this, he should just ignore the other at least, but he was too worried, too out of sorts to do so easily. And Lucifer's words rang a little too true, didn't they? Hit a little too close to home? Sam had walked out on Dean, again, but Dean hadn't hesitated to trust that Sam would come for him when he needed it. And that was the kind of trust that Dean just didn't put in others, Hell, he probably wouldn't ask for help from anyone else save Bobby.

His hands had fallen to his lap, but he could tell that Lucifer wasn't gone because he could hear him chuckling. _Damni-_

His own thoughts were interrupted by the sudden, small weight against his leg and a low growl. Sam opened his eyes to find a pair of green eyes staring up at him with a familiar concern and ferocity that seemed all the more open at the moment.

_Sammy! Hey! Snap out of it, man! _

The dog had placed a small paw on Sam's leg and pushed at it, and it seemed to take a lot of effort for the dog not to fall over. His small body was still shaking and unused to itself. The dog gave another low growl as he jerked his snout forward to shove it against Sam's bleeding hand with a low whine.

_How many times I gotta tell you? You're gonna tear your friggen hand apart! _

Sam stared down at the dog with his insistent growling, those familiar eyes, and gestures way too obvious to be mistaken. He was worried. He seemed upset, concerned, and he didn't like Sam hurting himself-even though Sam had just about choked the little guy only moments ago.

It was way too weird, but wasn't he the one that had only those moments ago been having a conversation with an imaginary fallen angel?

"Dean?"

The dog's ears perked and he smacked his paw against Sam's leg as if in affirmative before he flopped onto his belly with a frustrated huff. It was almost comical, except that it pretty much confirmed that it was his big, pain-in-the-ass, brother trapped inside that furry form.

And that was anything but comical.

Sam stared down at the green-eyed dog gazing up at him with alert, intelligent, and as stated over in over in his mind-_familiar_ eyes. Eyes he _knew_. His _brother's_ eyes.

Dean had been in pain, he'd been in ungodly, painful, wrenching pain. The door had been shut and nothing looked overly disturbed besides the lamp that Dean had presumably knocked down. The dog's breath even smelled of whiskey, a little bit, and he'd been in Dean's clothes. And then there was that firm, Dean-attitude as the dog tried to get him to stop hurting himself. Lastly, sure enough, the dog had dispelled Lucifer, Dean was the one person who could do it just like that, not even Bobby had been able to.

"It's really you." Sam whispered, more to himself than anything else, but Dean seemed to have heard and he rallied off a series of growls, the occasional bark, and a low whine.

Sam's head was already splitting, the pain in his hand throbbing, and all the stress and tension built up in him were swirling around in internal turmoil. The noise was _not_ helping. Sam slid his not-injured hand forward and gently clamped it around the dog's-Dean's-mouth to silence him. "Calm down, man. I can't understand you. It's just a bunch of dog noises."

Whatever confidence Dean had garnered at Sam apparently recognizing him deflated with those words and his ears fell a bit and his tail curled slightly, all of which he supposed were unconscious gestures, the dog's body reacting to Dean's emotional state.

Dean had been, if not at excited, at least relieved at first that Sam had recognized him. After the whole-threatening him like an idiot-bit. But when Sam closed his mouth and explained that he couldn't understand...that just blew that all to shit. Reality hit home. He was a dog, a furry ass little dog, and Sam couldn't understand him. Dean was trapped, isolated, and seeing in _black and freaking white_. Could it possibly get any worse?

"Do you know how this happened?" Sam's voice, although concerned, was also decidedly business-like. It wasn't that Sam wasn't worried, because he was, and it wasn't that he wasn't freaked out and a bit panicky himself, because he _definitely _was. But the priority right now was to stay calm and find a way to fix Dean, and that started with figuring out what had happened.

At the question, Dean reflected that-yes-it could get worse.

Because he had no idea how in the Hell this had happened.

Dean gave a little shake of his head, it wasn't like he could do much else, and Sam winced a little. "Well...are you okay?"

Dean stared up at Sam with a _do-I-__**look**__-okay_ look, he could read his brother fairly well-even as a dog. In fact, it wasn't like a dog could put on much bravado, so this way...Dean was actually a little more _open_. He couldn't crack stupid jokes, or put up a front, and really-he couldn't even just walk away. Dean was small, helpless, and stuck, with a body that betrayed his every emotion, and Sam was the only thing he had at the moment. The realization was crushing even as it was a bit, oddly enough, exhilarating.

Dean needed him. He _needed_ him.

And sure, Sam wasn't nearly ready to forgive him for Amy, or the lying, or his drunken, unbrotherly behavior but...he wasn't going to leave his brother in a lurch, either.

The brothers stared at each other for a long, silent moment before Sam reached his hand out towards Dean.

Dean tensed for two reasons. One, he didn't want to be touched, particularly as he was. Two. That big ass hand had just tried to choke-hold him, so he wasn't looking forward to round-two. He growled, but he really didn't look threatening, and even he knew it. _I __**will**__ bite you._

But Sam ignored him and put said 'big ass hand' on his head before he brought it under Dean's chin and tilted his head up towards him as he appeared to examine Dean a moment. His fur felt normal, soft-even, he was warm and breathing, clearly Dean's mind was in tact, and he didn't seem to be in pain.

Dean jerked his head away and growled. _Take a picture, it'll last longer. And quit touching me, friggen pervert._

Sam could guess along the lines of his brother's response, but he didn't smile. For one thing, as stated, this situation was anything but comical and for another, not that was calming down a bit...his bitterness over Amy was resurfacing, at least a little. He was going to help Dean, he'd do anything he had to, but that didn't make things okay between them. Not by a long shot.

Still...Dean's body was still shaking slightly, his ears and tail were drooped, and he seemed to be having trouble meeting Sam's eyes. He was trapped in a body that not only was not his own, but was everything a hunter would despise being. Dean probably thought of himself as weak at the moment, useless, and he no doubt hated it. Sam could sympathize, and moreoever, he wanted to reassure his brother, comfort him.

He sighed as he sat with his back against the bed before he abruptly reached over and grabbed up Dean from the ground. Dean jerked and began a furious string of barks that he ignored as he set Dean on his lap and kept him there with a firm hand pressed down on his mid-section, and his free hand stroking Dean's head comfortingly.

_H-Hey! Put me down! Son of a bitch, Sam, I __**will**__ bite you! Damnit, Sam, stop!_ But he went unheeded as Sam easily picked him up and set him on his lap, and kept him held there. His squirming was to no avail, Sam's strength easily trumped his own and like it or not, he found himself with no alternative.

Dean glared balefully up at Sam, who he would swear seemed to be smirking faintly, was the bastard enjoying this? And if he was, would Dean maybe, _slightly_ deserve it for lying to Sam's face? Then again, he'd done what he had to do: what Sam _couldn't_ and _wouldn't_ do. But instead of mocking him, Sam's free hand was gentle against him as Sam spoke quietly. "Whatever this is, we'll take care of it."

Some of the tension eased out of Dean's small form. Truth be told, some little part of him he didn't want to dwell on had actually been afraid that Sam might leave anyway. That he might say 'screw it' and leave Dean, because he'd done it before, but he was going to stay and help. And really, it didn't surprise him. No matter how pissed they got at each other, they were brothers.

So Dean lowered his head and stopped his fussing as he allowed Sam to stroke his fur-and for the moment-ignore the temptation to bite the bastard for treating Dean like a dog and just man-handling him.

Dean knew that Sam couldn't understand him, so he didn't think it would matter much when he leaned his head just slightly into Sam's touch and growled softly. _Thanks, Sammy_.

But from the way that Sam's lips quirked upwards, just faintly, and the way he brushed his thumb lightly against Dean's snout, he suspected that Sam, like the pain-in-the-ass little brother that he was, understood.

The bitch.

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**Not every chapter will have Teen/Present, I don't think. Nor do I intend to often rewrite the same scene from both perspectives, usually I'll just mix them, like I did with this Presentchester scene. But occasionally flipping them seems effective too, so it might happen again. It just won't be the whole story or anything. XD Annd. I got no opinions on Cas from you all, so I suppose I'll assume I can do whatever comes to me. XD It was interesting to write the scenarios from the Teen/Present perspectives. The different reactions to basically the same situations, I dunno, I had fun. XD And there's Lucifer. Oh, my, goodness. And writing the dog actions, and poor Dean's body betraying him doggishly, and Sam reading Dean's eyes all little brother-awesome-like. XD Well, please do leave verbal hugs, and faves and alerts, and whatever else comes to mind because it brightens my soul and tempts me to post more quickly. XD [Hooray for this being my one day off-by the way] XD Means more writin' time! I digress, I adore you all endlessly! Lurve, Witchy~ **


	4. The Only Choice Remains

**Baby and Kitty=Win. Just saying. Thanks for the reviews, m'dears. I loves them utterly. XD Thank you, oh ye of alerting and faving, you brighten my existence as well. And all of you readers who just read and make my hit count go up? Yeah, I -heart- you peeps too. XD The OCD in me angsts at not being totally current as far as Sam/Dean now being patched up thanks to psychic-ville, but at the same time, I like that they have conflict now and it's not just worried!Sammy, there's underlying angst and now I get to do my own version of their...whatever you wanna call it. Although I cheered for Dean and cracked up when he told Sam to stop being a bitch. Sam's kinda a hypocrite. I lurve him anyway. But Dean is bomb. And then Sam was like 'oh, you can live your own life' and Dean's heart was all broked and I was bummed...but I love that we got some insight on how Cas' betrayal made him feel...XD I digress!~**

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_November, 1997_

The room was silent but for John Winchester's faintly labored breathing, and the ticking of the clock. At least, that was all that Sam heard, but Dean had been forcefully inducted to the realm of dog-hood, wherein everything was _turned up_. Sam's breathing, the rustling of his clothes, the faint rustling of his own-_damnit_-fur as Sam stroked him lightly, that thundering freaking clock. He heard it all.

Sam, on the other hand, was stuck with human hearing and had finally calmed a bit. Enough that he was tempted to grab his brother up, clutch him close, and start crying in relief rather than sorrow. Sam had been _mourning_ his big brother, and to find out now that he was alive was overwhelming. He wanted Dean by his side, he wanted to see his brother's cocky grin and hear him call Sam a 'bitch' and laugh, and he wanted to feel Dean's arms around him as he reassured him that he was indeed alive and well.

But he couldn't, but he was currently pint-sized and four-legged, and Sam was the one who ought to be doing the comforting, and was in fact, trying to.

The moments following Dean laying down beside him seemed to stretch on, but it was only really a few minutes later that Sam lowered his hand and shifted so that he was on his knees as he looked down at his brother. "You sure you're okay?" he ventured to ask. "Not hurting or anything?"

Dean had given a soft growl as Sam's hand pulled away from him, but he lifted his head and watched his brother as he spoke. _Other than being a dog? I'm great, thanks for askin'._ The weary sarcasm was lost on Sam, since to Sam, it was nothing more than a few little growls. As it was, Dean added a faint shake of his head so that Sam would know he was alright. If this could qualify as 'alright'.

Sam bit his lower lip and then mumbled. "This is...really weird, man...even for us, this is...weird."

Dean huffed. _Ya think? _ He noted Sam's expression was all kinds of anxious, and he internally sighed as he brought a shaky paw down on top of one of Sam's hands, which were currently palms-down against the carpet. _Like you said, we'll figure this out, don't look so damned gloomy, kid. _ He knew that Sam couldn't understand him, but it comforted him to speak anyway, and he knew that Sam knew him well enough to get the gist of it. Hopefully.

Sam did seem to, anyway, from the way the tension in his shoulders eased slightly and he went from sitting on his knees to sitting cross-legged. But after a pensive moment, Sam said quietly. "I thought...I thought you were...when you weren't with Dad..." he trailed off, his expression pained, and it took Dean all of five seconds to get the idea.

_Oh_. Well damn. He hadn't thought of how Sam must have seen things, Dean being absent and their Dad all beat to Hell. Come to think of it, as he peered up at his little brother, there were some faint, red splotches on his face and his hair was clinging to his cheeks a little like it had gotten wet. The kid had been crying, he'd been too busy bemoaning his current position to notice. He'd been crying for Dean. And, he also had the beginnings of a nice bruise on his cheek, partially under his eye, courtesy of Dean's attempt to leave quickly.

Wasn't like he could do much to comfort or reassure the other, but dog or not, Dean was alive and that had to count for something, right? No wonder he'd wanted to get all touchy-feely though, aside from probably just bein' curious, typical Sammy and all that. Dean hesitated and then sucked up his pride-because hey, it was his little brother-and he clumsily edged closer to his brother's crossed legs and rested his head on the other's ankle with a low whine. _I'm here, Sammy, it's okay_.

Sam seemed to get the message, because his whole body kind of slumped [with relief, maybe?] and he smiled slightly. "I'm glad you're...y'know..._not_." 'Dead' went unspoken, but Dean, like Sam, knew his brother well and he got the message.

_You and me both, pal._ Dean growled softly, and when Sam's hand lifted to stroke his fur softly, he didn't bother to protest.

Once again, the pair fell silent until Sam spoke softly. "Dad probably won't wake up for awhile anyway...so if you feel like sleeping..."

Dean didn't want to sleep, he wanted to wake up from this freakin' nightmare where he was a _dog_, but that didn't seem likely to happen any time soon. So for now, he'd settle for sleeping, because he was pretty sure that it was the only way he'd be getting Sam to sleep. So he pressed a paw against Sam's hand and gave a little nod in the affirmative that he would sleep. What else could he do? Sam needed his rest, and staying up all night wasn't gonna make the problem go away, so Dean had no reason to stay up either. And maybe when he woke up, this would all be one crazy, bad dream.

But knowing Winchester luck, he doubted it.

There were two beds, Dean and Sam had each taken one while their father was out, but now they'd been left with just the one. Dean eyed the bed a moment and grimaced before he forced himself to look up at Sam with a huffed sigh. He wasn't getting up there by himself. And thankfully, Sam understood the problem already.

Sam bit his lip again before he gently brought his hands around Dean's sides. "Sorry, Dean." he whispered, and he was. His brother didn't deserve half the crap he got, let alone being turned into a dog. Just part and parcel of the crazy Winchester life, one that was growing more and more intolerable to Sam. But those were thoughts for a different time, one when his big brother didn't need his help, and his father wasn't passed out from the intensity of his last hunt. A hunt that was still ongoing, if Dean's hesitant sort of reply was anything to go by.

Dean gave a faint whine, unintentionally, as Sam lifted him up and he instinctively scrabbled a bit as he tried to gain some purchase on Sam. He didn't like flying, and this felt damned close to it. Heights, he could handle, but he needed solid, firm ground. Not this, especially in the form he was currently in.

The trip to the bed didn't last long, but Sam held Dean carefully close before he set him down on the bed.

Dean shuddered a little, relieved when he was met with something solid before he attempted to pad to one side of the bed, but his coordination was worse on the uneven bed than on the ground, and he stumbled onto his stomach. He couldn't get the hang of it.

Under better circumstances, Sam might have been amused, but as it was-he just felt sorry for his brother and knew better than to show it. Sam slid into bed beside Dean and hunkered down as he gently pushed Dean upwards till he was able to lean his head against the pillow and was facing Sam. "You still good?" Sam asked softly as he brushed his hand over Dean's side lightly.

Dean gave something like a snort and shoved a paw at Sam's hand as he lay a bit awkwardly beside his little brother. _All things considered? Yeah, I'm good, kid. So quit lookin' at me like a sad damn puppy._

A statement rife with irony, at the unfortunate present.

Sam just kept on staring at him, nibbling at his lower lip like it was going out of style, and his face kinda scrunched up like he'd eaten a lemon. The kid was worried, and Dean didn't like that one bit. In fact, he didn't like a lot of things right now. Life, for example. The fact that he was a friggin' dog, for another. And yes, the fact that his brother looked like he was about to just break down and cry, when he'd apparently already been crying-thanks to Dean.

And for the record, he didn't like chick-moments either. But since Sam being upset bugged him worse...well, he could suck it up.

This time, anyway.

Dean huffed as he sort of wriggled his way closer to a faintly surprised-looking Sam, and he didn't stop until he was right beside Sam. He shoved at Sam's arm with a pushy paw so that he could get by, and he stopped when he was more or less pressed against the side of Sam's chest, again, much to Sam's surprise.

"Dean?" There was hesitation in Sam's voice, no big surprise. Normally Sam was the one big into the fluffy crap, or he was busy trying to assert his teenage rebellion or whatever the Hell his smartin' off to their father was.

Dean didn't bother to attempt to reply, he simply laid his head against Sam's upper arm, and gave said arm an awkward pat. He felt like a moron, and oh-man-if he'd been in his body this would _not_ be happening. But he was stuck as a dog, and embarrassing as it was, like he said-he'd suck it up. Because he couldn't handle the kid crying or keep looking so miserable, especially not on top of everything else.

Sam seemed to get the message, because his face relaxed at the same time a small, grateful smile curved his lips. He still seemed sad though, and Dean was beginning to think that as long as he was a dog-that wasn't going away. Which he appreciated, even as he didn't like it.

Sam's arm slowly curved around Dean and he forced himself to relax as Sam tugged him still a bit closer as he tucked Dean against him and tilted to his side so he could rest his arm on his stomach and his hand lightly on Dean's side.

The kid was still worried, but he didn't look so tense and that was worth it to Dean. Green eyes and brown stared for a moment in the dimly lit motel before Sam's thumb brushed lightly against Dean's side. "We'll figure this out, Dean. You won't be this way long." he promised.

Dean wouldn't have argued that if he could, so instead, he allowed himself a wolfish sort of grin as he batted a paw against Sam's cheek like he was punching him lightly. _Thanks, Samantha._

Sam knew his brother better than anyone, and he got the message. He scrunched his nose but smiled faintly before he closed his eyes.

Dean could tell when Sam had fallen asleep from when he could literally hear his relaxed movements, the rhythmic sleeping pattern of his breath, but it seemed like hours before he finally gave in and closed his own eyes. Dean figured Sam had fallen asleep so easy cause he had Dean by his side, but having Sam by his side hadn't done much to ease his concerns, for once. Maybe when he woke up, it would all just be a really crappy dream...

But knowing his luck?

He doubted it.

...

_Present Day_

"_Whad'ja idjits get yourselves into this time?_"

That was the question of the [decidedly late] hour as Sam winced into the phone. The moment of comfort had passed all too quickly as Sam had deposited [an irked] Dean onto the bed and dialed up Bobby. The sooner they fixed...whatever this was, the better.

As it was, Sam was more than a little freaked out, certainly more than he let on. Every time he turned to look for Dean, there was that dog, with Dean's intense, green eyes fixed right on him. He wondered if that had been how Dean had felt every time he'd turned around to find Cas' own blue eyes giving him 'creepy eye sex'. Moreover, he was concerned about any other possible effects. For now, despite his form change, Dean at least seemed...alright. Uninjured. But they had no idea what was going on and if that might change.

"Well, uh...you ever hear about...people turning into animals?"

There was a brief pause on the other end before Bobby's gruff tones spoke again. "_We talkin' literally, or..._"

"Literally." Sam clarified, regrettably, with a quick glance at the dog-er, Dean-on the bed.

"_Dean_." It wasn't a question, more of an almost-groaned statement.

"Yup...uh...he's...a dog."

"_...A __**dog**__?_"

"Small, furry, four legs...definitely a dog. Husky, I think." Sam noted that as he said that, Dean began craning his head as if to confirm Sam's words. When he found he couldn't really do much but see his legs and tail, he gave an irritated huff and tilted his head back to Sam with a faint glare.

Sam looked away at that. It wasn't his fault his brother had gotten into trouble.

"_Yer not jokin', are ya?_" Bobby doubted it, but he had to confirm it anyway.

"Trust me, I _wish_ I was joking."

"_Well damn.._" Bobby was silent a moment before he spoke again. "_There's some lore on it...shifters, things like that...curses...a lot of it springs up in myth, Greek, Norse...but I haven't heard of it happenin' before. Not besides shifters._" And that didn't quite count as what Sam was referring to, he was sure. "_What happened?_"

Sam was afraid of that. "I'm not too sure. Dean thought he got hexed. He called me up sounding like he was...dying, and by the time I got to the motel he was a dog. And before you ask, I'm sure it's him. No mistake." Sam glanced at the dog on the bed who was listening to his every word and still glaring all the while and mentally confirmed it. _Yup. It's Dean, all right. _

"_Well...crap. I'll see what I can dig up, put in a few calls. In the meantime, you don't let him out of your sight. If somethin' is behind this..._" There was a note of worry in the surly hunter's tone, something that Sam both appreciated and mirrored at present.

"Yeah, I gotcha." If something was behind it, it might come after Dean, which bumped up his vulnerability scale a few dozen extra notches. Plus, if they ran into the Leviathans...they were royally screwed.

"_And Sam...whatever Dean did to piss you off, you don't let it get in the way of fixin' him, y'hear me?_"

Sam's eyes widened faintly in surprise. "What makes you think-"

"_Y'think I was born yesterday, ya idjit? Anyway, I called Dean about somethin' earlier and he told me a bit'a what happened. I ain't sayin' either a'yuh is right or wrong, but I know Dean feels like crap about it even though, to be honest, I don't think he was wrong._"

"What happened to not saying either of us was wrong?" Sam queried through faintly gritted teeth as he shot a dark glance at Dean, whose eyes narrowed in return.

"_Yeah, well, pardon me. He shouldn'a lied to ya, Sam. But you didn't give him much choice._"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam's tone was a little irritated now, and Bobby's reply was sharp.

"_Don't get prissy with me, __**boy**__. Dean did his job, and now you got one to do too. All I'm sayin' is, don't let your hurt feelings get in the way. I ain't gonna argue it with you, figure it out. And be careful, Sam. I'll let you know soon as I find somethin'._"

Sam clenched his jaw slightly and he wanted to demand a little more clarification on Bobby's part, since the older hunter seemed to have such damned insight. But he was right, this wasn't the time to argue, and he'd already known he couldn't be too 'pissy' about Amy just now. Not when Dean needed him like this. It was his life on the line, and when it came down to it-pissed or not-they were brothers. "Okay, Bobby. Thanks."

The line clicked off and for a moment, he stared down at his phone before he tilted his gaze to Dean. What possible reason could Dean have had [besides just plain getting away with it without an argument] to lie to his face? To go behind his back and kill his friend? There was no reason, it was just Dean being Dean, doing what he wanted. Nevermind trusting Sam like he said he would...a trust that Sam had been grateful to receive, after all the bad water under the bridge. It was like he finally had something stable, something familiar, something _decent_ to cling to amidst all the crap going on his messed up life...and then Dean had taken his hopes, that faint sense of control, and crushed it.

And he'd killed Amy.

Bitterness and anger welled up inside of him again, he couldn't help it, as he turned to Dean and found Dean watching him carefully. He recalled hearing something before about dogs being attuned to emotions, and he wondered vaguely if Dean could 'sense' his. He almost hoped that he could, so that Dean understood Sam was still _pissed_, and this didn't give Dean a 'free-pass'. "Bobby doesn't know what could have caused it. He's looking into it." Sam said simply, but accusations and angry shouts danced at the edge of his tongue. This was part of why he'd left in the first place, because looking into Dean's eyes, those guilty, stubborn eyes, he'd been incensed. Sam could tell he felt guilty about Amy, but didn't that just prove that Sam was right and Dean had killed her for nothing? It wasn't like he was guilty about lying, he'd done that plenty, right?

_Quit looking at me like that, damnit._ Dean growled lowly and Sam jumped slightly, actually a bit startled. Dean's current form would take some getting used to.

Dean had listened to Sam's half of the conversation and he had even heard the faint buzzing of Bobby's, more or less. But he had no idea what the older hunter had said that had Sam staring at him like he was deciding whether to strangle him or to stab him. Dean glared lightly at Sam, and he wasn't really satisfied when Sam simply turned away.

"I'll see what I can find online. You just...stay there, I guess."

_Tell me to 'stay' again, and I will find a way to kick your ass._ Dean growled, but Sam didn't acknowledge him as he pulled out his computer and set himself up to start working. He glared at Sam and gave a little growl for effect, but Sam was still ignoring him, it seemed.

And that bothered him.

Dean could take anger, or a punch in the face, or Sam having a bitch-fit. It'd piss him off, but he could handle that. Being ignored by his brother, plain and simple, agitated him, and...hurt. More than he would ever care to admit. _Sam, man...c'mon, I can't even talk, don't do this __**now.**_ The words came out as a low whine, and Sam did finally look over at him, but it seemed more like a 'Dean's fine, whatever' look before he tilted his gaze back to his computer.

The prick.

_Sam...Sam, damnit, look at me! Hey! _ Dean's words were a flurry of low growls, and he rose to continue his tirade as he moved a bit forward without much thought. He made a noise of surprise as he missed his footing and stumbled a bit, and found that he'd been closer to the edge than he'd realized. His sudden height difference, along with the body itself, scrambled his depth perception and coordination. Dean found himself colliding with the ground for the second time that night, and he gave an unintentional whimper.

"What the Hell, Dean?" Sam's voice sounded faintly angry, but concerned too, and that was something, Dean supposed.

Sam's long hands found Dean's smaller body as he pushed on Dean's side to roll him over and look down at him, prodding a few places to check for injury. When Dean growled in response, he took it as a sign that the other wasn't hurt. "Next time you feel like jumping off a bed...don't." Sam advised, and Dean's dry look spoke volumes of how much he'd probably like to bite Sam.

Well, goody, because he was pretty tempted to throttle his currently canine brother, so it evened things out.

Sam rose and Dean cocked his head with faintly narrowed eyes. "What? You want me to play with you, or research?"

_You dick..._ Dean growled. Was this how it was gonna be? Dean had lied, and now Sam was allowed to forget every damned lie he'd ever told Dean and play hypocrite? He'd screwed Ruby! A freakin' demon! To say nothing of the demon's blood, and freaky psychic crap, and going out behind his back, and hiding his tea-parties with Lucifer. Or, hey, how about lying about Amy in the first place? But Dean, who had lied to do his job as a hunter and a big brother, [and felt guilty about it anyway], _Dean_ was the asshole here?

"Research it is." Sam muttered as he turned from Dean and headed back to his computer. Dean hadn't been expecting a cuddle-fest or anything [and he sure as Hell didn't want one] but would it kill his brother to act like he gave a damn that his brother had been turned into a _dog_?

Dean glared at Sam for a long moment, but it gradually faded to something more like annoyance and agitation as Sam simply ignored him. That was something that he'd always hated. At least if the kid was fighting with him-they were still interacting. Being flat out ignored just...bugged him. At least, when Sam was the one doing the ignoring.

Well fine, if he wanted to ignore Dean, he'd just have to irritate Sam until he paid him some damned attention.

That thought in mind, he vaguely crawled his way over to Sam-still unused to his form- and promptly smacked a paw against his brother's ankle. Sam's brow furrowed as he looked down at Dean, who gazed belligerently back up.

_You can give me a bitch-face all you want, I ain't goin' anywhere, Sasquatch. _

Sam gazed down at his brother as he swiped at his ankle. He couldn't tell what the other's game was. Sam needed to research and find some way out of this mess, and surely Dean wanted that, so maybe he was just bored? "Do you want my help or not, Dean?" Sam's voice was faintly sharp, and Dean's eyes narrowed. So much for 'brotherhood' and all that jazz.

_Screw you. I can figure this crap out on my own. _Dean gave a quick turn from his brother and promptly fell chin-first into the carpet as he lost his balance. _Are you kidding me? _ This time, Dean gave a low growl as he pushed himself back up and padded a deliberate paw forward. How the Hell did dogs walk again? Two legs at once or something? He hadn't paid enough attention to a dog to know, he'd never thought he'd become one, after all.

Dean yelped and then gave a growl of protest as he felt hands around him and found himself deposited back on the bed. Sam stood at the edge of said bed to regard him with a faint frown. "Get some sleep, Dean. I'll keep researching." There was a vague note of concern buried in the undertones of his otherwise curt words, but it did little to soothe Dean. This was not his girly, touchy-feely, pain-in-the-ass little brother. Well, he was maybe still a pain-in-the-ass, but his coollness and intentional reserve was driving Dean nuts. Especially when he couldn't retaliate or defend himself.

_You want me to __**sleep**__? You're jokin', right?_

Sam heard Dean's growl and maybe it was his imagination filling in the blanks for the big brother he knew all too well, but it was decidedly sarcastic-sounding. He held up his hands. "Fine. Don't sleep. Whatever."

Dean growled, but Sam noted that his tail was curled and his ears were lowered. His body really did betray him now. The sad gestures spoke volumes, actually, since it meant that it wasn't boredom driving Dean. Sam eyed his older brother a moment, and he saw Dean's glare become a slightly puzzled head-tilt, oddly reminiscent of Cas as Dean eyed him warily. He moved forward and Dean tensed, only to give a low whine as Sam's fingers ran through his fur.

_Sam?_ One minute, Dean was getting stared at and the next minute, he was getting stroked. He didn't get Sam's mood at all. All he knew was that that weird, bitter taste in the air that had made him think Sam was pissed [alongside of the fact he just knew from Sam's actions that he was pissed], had lessened into something a little sweeter. Calmer.

"Seriously, Dean, just sleep, okay?" Sam's voice had softened a little. "There's nothing you can do right now. I'll figure this out." he brushed his thumb against Dean's snout, and then trailed his fingers over Dean's head and ears, which caused him to shiver a little.

_Sammy..._ The comforting gesture made Dean's guilt resurface in an instant. The desire to explain himself, to make Sam understand welled up suddenly-but he couldn't do a damn thing about it. And even if he could, he wouldn't. Still...he wanted...he wanted to fix things. Dean had just done his job. All the time's he'd forgiven Sam, and he wanted to throw a bitch-fit about _this_? Dean knew he shouldn't have lied, he hated lying to Sam anyway, but he'd done the right thing.

So why was he the one left feeling so damned guilty?

_Yeah, yeah._ Dean lightly batted Sam's hand away, and the ghost of a smile flickered across Sam's lips as he lowered his hand.

Sam continued to gaze down at Dean, and uncomfortable, he figured the best way to handle it was to just give in and he gave a huff as he flopped down and closed his eyes. After a bit of squirming, he found a comfortable enough position to lie on, and tried to focus on sleeping. As if. All the same, he heard Sam move away after a moment and head back to his laptop to begin clicking away.

Sam had given in to the urge to comfort his brother, and to his surprise, Dean hadn't made much fuss about it and even relented to his suggestion of sleep. And it was admittedly...adorable, the way that Dean batted his hand and flopped down. Everything, really. Surprisingly, rather than being a slobbery pitbull or something, he'd become a husky pup, and that meant..well, as stated, adorable. It was a crap situation, but it didn't stop him from taking a sly picture of his attempting-to-snooze brother via his cellphone.

What kind of little brother would he be if he didn't do that, after all?

But the moment of vague amusement didn't stop the worry over the situation, or his concerns about how easily something had gotten the drop on them. Had it waited until Sam's departure? Sam's gaze slid over to Dean on the bed and he felt a clench in his chest. Dean wasn't supposed to be this way, he wasn't supposed to need help this way, and if it was paining him, it had to be killing Dean.

Sam would fix Dean and maybe when it was over...Dean would be able to actually trust Sam after all, and regret lying to his face.

At the moment, Sam reflected as he took in the sight of the small form breathing evenly, huddled in a ball on the bed and comforter that was practically engulfing him, he certainly didn't have a choice.

But then, neither did he.

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**This took so long...I've been distracted...AND IF BOBBY DIES, I WILL HUNT SERA GAMBLE DOWN. She took Cas, if she takes him...be kinda cool if Cas pops up and helps him somehow...but I doubt we'll be that lucky. XD Poor Dean. Cute Sam moments too...but Dean's eating habits are just NASTY! By the by! I've created in-character facebook profiles for Dean, Sam, and Castiel. I worked reeaaally hard on them, and making interactions/wall posts/photo comments between them and I think it's fun to read so...if you have a minute, I'd adore you all endlessly even more if you'd take a look and 'like' those pages. If not, I adore you all anyway. XD You can find them all on Dean's page, which is facebookdotcom/xbadmoonrisingx Thanks for reading, faving, alerting, and reviewing! You all rock! Happy holidays! ~Witchy~  
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